


Can I Tell You, Do You Know

by slamjam



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Canon Asexual Character, Compulsion, Drowning, Implied Sexual Content, Jon's natural sexy voice, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sexual Tension, Under-negotiated Kink, arguments over the proper name for woodlice, depictions of drowning and death, gratuitous use of british pop bands, kind of, mentions of peter/Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slamjam/pseuds/slamjam
Summary: "Martin had generally found that people were never who you expected them to be in bed. If you knew someone outside of a sexual context, it was nearly impossible to say with complete certainty what exactly they were into. Even if they were a miserable control freak with a tea obsession, you didn’t know what they were into."The development of the Jon Simms Voice Kink over 4 seasons.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 28
Kudos: 284





	1. Season 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is because I think his voice is nice. Sue me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (and tbf the whole fic) has some characters referring to an ace character (Jon) having sex and engaging in kink in a sexual manner without knowledge of his asexuality. It's an unconscious aphobia that might be upsetting to some folks so i figured i should just put a warning in here, as i've done some thinking since publishing this.

Martin had generally found that people were never who you expected them to be in bed. If you knew someone outside of a sexual context, it was nearly impossible to say with complete certainty what exactly they were into. Even if they were a miserable control freak with a tea obsession, you didn’t know what they were into. He had to remind himself that a lot, the first couple of months with Jon in the archives, because something about the way Jon pushed people around, it set his “shitty dom” senses a-blaring.

He talked to Tim about it at some point during lunch in their first month or so at the archives “Jon? I don’t think he could manage to get a cock up there with the tightarse he is.”

“That’s-“ Martin tried to talk around a mouthful of spinach salad, but choked at the image of Jon bent over. He swallowed “not what I was asking. He’s almost definitely straight, but what I want to know is what the fuck he thinks he’s doing with his whole…” He gestured wildly with his fork “’Tim do this’ ‘Sasha do that’ thing? Eh?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really mind it” Tim said, taking a bite of his wrap and Martin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, well that’s because-“

“I like it, yes, we know Martin.”

They’d fucked a few times years ago, Tim was ridiculously flexible and Martin was still cut up about his last messy breakup, so it didn’t last too long. It was an easy thing between them now which was not what Martin was used to, but very nice nonetheless. He felt his face heat up and Tim smiled in that feral way that let him know that he was quite red.

“I’m not trying to say-“ Martin sighed.

“Oh, I know you didn’t mean anything by it” Tim said breezily, pulling the foil away from his food, but his smile was still too pointy for him not to be poking fun. “I’m just saying, in my professional opinion as someone who likes to follow orders, he sounds a lot like some of my past doms.”

“Meaning” Martin looked at him flatly

Tim sighed “Meaning, I think he might have some sort of l experience. I don’t know maybe he’s used to switching it on for a job and not switching it back off.”

“Having a similar tone to your past sexual partners does not mean that-“

“Hi guys, what are we talking about?” Sasha walked into the break room with a large paper bag on her hip, the smell of curry wafting behind her and Martin felt all the blood in his body drop to his toes.

“Oh, just about whether our boss likes to boss people around during sex is all.” Tim said, meeting her eyes, his dimples popping out when she smiled back at him. Martin hadn’t known he had dimples, and felt a bit bad about it.

“I don’t think he does any of that actually.” She said, lifting out a little aluminum container and unfolding the oil from around the clear plastic lid.

“Kinky things?” Tim said, his eyebrow lifting.

“Naw, sex in general. He’s got an asexual pin on his bag.”

“Well that doesn’t mean he doesn’t dom then. Plenty of ace folk have sex and not all kink has to be sexual, for instance my old domme in-”

Tim continued but Martin found himself stuck on “Jon” and “asexual”. He was a bit disappointed, and then immediately guilty for feeling disappointed. Who was he to say what Jon could and couldn’t feel in regards to sexuality, he was just some creep with a crush on his boss who wanted to know exactly what he did in bed so much he asked a coworker about it, a coworker he had slept with no less, probably inviting a lot more pain into his-

“Martin?” Sasha asked

“Mmm!” He said, blinking his eyes hard.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, never better. Tim was talking about flogging people for fun and profit and I just zoned out a bit.”

She huffed air out her nose and Tim rounded on him, starting in about “kink isn’t something to be ashamed of, Martin” and it was fine, no one had to know. It was fine. He just had to stop thinking about Jon that way.


	2. Season 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Martin argue about the nomenclature for woodlice, Sasha's duck is violated, and Jon is a southerner.

It was both easier and harder than he’d thought it would be. The whole “evil killer worms in the Archives” thing left very little time for him to do anything bodily maintenance related, much less have the leisure to touch himself. And Jon got more prickly afterwards if anything, retreating to his office like a medieval fortress.

“I think he’s put up some sort of board, like in that one episode of “Its Always Sunny” He’d whispered to Tim just to see the other man snort and roll his eyes.

It was an echo of what he used to do when his coworkers made a joke, but it was still something, and he pressed on. “I mean, he just sits there curled up like a little chickypig speaking into his recorder like he’s in a horror movie.” If this was a horror movie, he thought, they all ought to feel less hunted after the villain had been defeated. But it really hadn’t been, not at all, he could feel something darker coming underneath-

“A chicky-what?” Tim interrupted his internal monologue, looking for all the world like Martin was speaking complete nonsense.

“A chickypig? You know those little uh, the bugs that when you tap them they go all rolled up” he clasped his hands together, shoulders rolling forward, trying to mimic it with his whole chest but Tim still looked utterly confused.

“Here let me,” Martin pulled out his phone, looking for a picture on google. “These little guys” He turned his phone and Tim leaned in, squinted.  
“You mean woodlice?”

“I? Suppose??? We always just called them chickypigs or chuggypegs or something like that. My aunt called them menaces, but I just thought that was more a personal thing than anything else.”

“Chickypig… hold on” Tim had taken Martin’s phone and was clicking around

“Don’t- don’t mess with my messages please.” Martin said, reaching for his phone but Tim held it up higher.

“Hold on a second, I’m not looking at your damn messages, or reading your erotic fanfiction about Jon.”

Martin colored badly, and Tim smirked, looking a bit more like he used to. “I’ve just got to find a list of-oh here. A list of names for woodlice.”

He cleared his throat dramatically and began reading in an affected posh voice that sounded a bit like their boss. 

“Armadillo bug, boat builder, butcher boy or “butchy”, so they’re all lesbians!” He smiled wickedly as Martin rolled his eyes “cheesy bug, ugh, don’t like that one at all”.

“Tim give me the phone back.” Martin made another halfhearted grab for it but Tim spun, holding the phone above his head and continuing to read loudly.

“Chuggy peg, ah there’s yours Martin, doodlebug, grammersow, hog-louse, monkey-peas-”

“Martin.” Jon’s voice shot through him and the effect was instantaneous. He felt himself straighten, dropping back down to his feet, turning to look for the other man (who was standing in the kitchenette doorway haggardly breathing in the steam from a mug of steaming tea).

“Yes?” Martin felt his voice lilt up breathily at the end and winced at it.

“What in God’s name are you doing right now?” It seemed like it would have been a joke if he had the energy.

“Um we were just-“

“Researching,” Tim said with the echoes of his previous smile, draping an arm heavily across Martin’s shoulders “heard there were some killer, uh, ‘monk’s-lice’ about, got to stay vigilant.”

Martin tried his very hardest not to shrug out of Tim’s embrace which felt oddly stifling, and settled on fumbling surreptitiously for his phone, which was dangling across his chest in Tim’s loose grip. Jon was resolutely deadpan.

“Well, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.” 

“Nope! No, absolutely not.” Martin and Tim talked over each other and Jon gave them a very tired look before disappearing into the kitchenette.  
Tim craned his head to look at Martin with a ghoulish smile and poked him in the side. “Oh my god you just totally-“ he whispered “he just did the voice and you-“

“Responded! I know! It was terrible!” Martin whispered hoarsely, running his hand through his hair and clutching the phone like a vice with the other.

“Oh, and Tim” Jon ducked his head back out the doorway and the men froze.

“It is actually chuckypig, Martin’s right.” He ducked back out, and Tim wheezed like a truck backfiring, hands dropping to his knees.

“Jesus Christ, I’m in a room full of idiots!”

“You’re in an office full of southerners Timothy, now shut up and get back to work, you heard the boss.” Martin took this as an excuse to swat him on the head (and ruin his nice tousled hair he knew took like three hours to make work, damn him) and pointedly move back towards his desk.

“Oh my God he’s really got you hasn’t he!” Tim said, still half laughing.

“Tim!” Martin hissed, jerking his head towards the open door.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, present company and all. But he really does have you by the balls Martin.”

Martin just scowled and ducked his head. He thought he heard Tim muttering something about “sexy voice” but he couldn’t start it up again. Not after the solid three weeks of work he’d put in and- Jon had been so-.

He was fucked wasn’t he. He shot a nasty glance over at Tim, who was lounging half on Sasha’s desk, admiring the decorative rubber ducky that she used when she tried to sneak her way around a paywall (or more often when she had to fix the broken website links on the Archives’ website, they were notorious for redirecting to the oddest places). He gave the head a squeeze, it went concave with a plaintive squeak and he chuckled.

“Tim Stoker are you touching my duck again?” came a call from the hallway.

Tim scrambled off the desk, knocking a three-hole punch down as he went. “NO!”

Martin had to put his head down on his desk. One of these days his coworkers were going to fucking kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truly, doing research for what people call these little animals was the most fun i'd had in months. The title of this piece on my google drive is "ah yes thee martin pillbug fic" because yes, I do subscribe to the idea that pillbug/rolypoly are the only proper names. 
> 
> Also: Tim isn't canonically From anywhere, but i went off where his VA is from, which appears to be more northern(?) or central England than the others, so there.
> 
> [Here is some information about regional names for woodlice](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woodlouse)  
> [ An an article from the beeb that really helped me write specifically about British names for the little bastards ](http://www.bbcamerica.com/anglophenia/2014/09/many-names-brits-woodlice)


	3. Season 3

Well, maybe not his coworkers. At the rate things were going, it would more likely be his boss than anything. 

He’d known Elias was creepy, but he figured it was a normal slimy boss thing. Shitty ethics and a lot of “vacationing” near an offshore bank account at the worst, but no. He had to go and get a job with his shitty fake CV with a literal death God. Or, rather, an “entity of fear”, as Jon would correct anyone who would listen. It was harder to think of him as a functioning adult now, with Sasha gone and Tim… well. He was there she’d taken something with her. A light in the room. It was harder to trust one’s own eyes or perception of the world, and while that wasn’t a new problem for Martin for Tim it seemed to be taking quite a lot. He-understood, if Tim decided not to keep coming in everyday, knowing what it meant. It would have been a lot easier for him if he did the same. But he was a coward and besides, Jon needed him. 

He fetched him a lot more tea nowadays. Sat with him for three hours in the kitchen after the Orsinov event and just watched his face. His hand was still in the compression sock from the burns and they couldn’t manage to get him one to match his skin color. It was the saddest looking dead beige thing, made to stand out much more against his soft green shirt.

“Did you have that before- er.” Martin realized that he had just started in the middle of a thought and blanched. “Sorry, that shirt, um. Did you have it before-“

“Yes.” Jon hadn’t even looked up, but when he did Martin saw that the dark rings under his eyes were plum-dark. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be terse, I just knew .”

“Like…”

Jon sighed. “Yeah, like…” he wiggled the fingers of his good hand weakly. “Knew it.”

“Oh.” He sat with that for a minute as Jon struggled to sip his tea with one hand and one awkwardly balanced fist, too stubborn to get a lighter mug. “How does that feel?”

“The knowing?”

Martin nodded.

Jon’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “A bit like, em. Like you just remembered something you knew a long time ago but couldn’t quite place. Quite satisfying actually. Like you worked quite hard to pull it right out of your brain, except instead of your brain its, not.” 

“And it’s just-“ Martin stopped himself, biting his lips into a white line. Jon was already clearly exhausted despite the bizarre luster of his skin. His eyes showed it, and the way he shied from Basira’s oddly gentle touch as she maneuvered him into the low chair at the table. He shouldn’t be asking any more questions of the man before he got sleep in a place that was safe.

“What were you going to say?”

Martin sighed. “I guess, that it’s just knowing information someone else knows or…”

Jon seemed to color at this, though it might have been a trick of the light. He reached up to tuck his long bangs behind his ears. “No it’s not quite- not quite that simple. I have to get it out of them when we talk.”

“Like you manipulate them emotionally?” Martin was genuinely confused and Jon huffed out a little breath.

“If you don’t want to go into it we don’t have to-“ Martin backpedaled but Jon reached out and put his hand on top of Martin’s, stilling him completely.

“No, no, please. God, I want to be able to tell somebody without them- finding out the wrong way. I uh. I compel them to tell me. Elias, I know he-“ Jon shook his head “He hasn’t done it to you has he? Nevermind, you’d know if he has”

Martin chuckled awkwardly “You make it sound like a bad thing”

Jon looked at him drily “Martin, I serve-“

“An entity of fear, I know, Jon.” Martin finished for him, and Jon smiled at him weakly.

“Do I really say it that much?”

“You do, but I don’t mind. You were saying about the uh compulsion thingy?”

“Ah, right. Well I- do you mind if I um.” He screwed up his face a bit and gestured at Martin vaguely.

“If you- compel me?” Jon nodded. “Will it hurt?”

“I-“ Jon hesitated, so it definitely would.

“Just go for it.” Martin said.

“Are you sure because it really-”

“Yes. I’m sure. Even if it hurts, I want to know. Like you said, it’s better I find out now than at some inconvenient moment when who knows what’s happening.” Martin met his stare, level and cool, until Jon sighed, rubbed at his eyes with his gloved hand.

“Fine. Alright, um, what should I ask you?”

“I don’t know, you’re really the expert here?” It felt surreal, like a dream, like a Ouija board at a house party where you were way too stoned. Here in this windowless room, a folding card table with squeaky chairs, where Jon’s hand was still resting softly on top of his, Jon was going to ask him something secret. Spool it out of him like sort of sinewy fishing line and he was fully prepared to let him because he loved him. And that wasn’t a secret, not to anyone, so he figured he was plain safe on that one.

Jon looked around the room like he was casting about for anything before he spoke, “Where-where did you hide your alcohol as a teenager?”

There was a buzzy feeling before Martin answered “I can’t actually drink, it’s a medical thing I-“ he winced “sorry. Um, maybe-“

“No, no it’s okay that was-honestly it was a dumb question. Okay.” Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again they were dark and deep, the ring between the pupil and his iris nearly matching. “What is something you’ve never told anyone before.”

It broke over him like a wave, Martin felt his lips part and his free hand press flat against the table as the compulsion soaked into him. It wasn’t sexual in nature; just warm tingles all up his body, calm and warm and curling up at the edges. It felt like the platonic ideal of arousal, and he felt himself speak more than he spoke.

“When I was twelve years old I clicked on a picture of a horse for a school project on google images and it lead to a porn site and I was so scared that I shut down the entire computer and ran out of the library.”

“Really?” Jon said, in his perfectly normal voice, and Martin felt the spell break.

“Yeah. I-wow, that’s what I chose? Not the millions of embarrassing things I did in my late teens?” Martin put his head in his hands without thinking and realized a minute too late that it meant no more Jon hand. Fuck.

“Well, I suppose you’ve told somebody about those.” He said, and didn’t sound too nonplussed so maybe it was okay.

“Not the time I poured cola into my open mouth with mentos to see what would happen, I’ve been saving that one for a day like this and look I just ruined it.” He lifted his head and Jon was biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

“And what happened?”

Martin felt shivers down his spine and closed his eyes, his mouth falling open a little as he tried to fight it. 

“I had a mouthful of fizzy cola is what and spilled it all down my front like an idiot. Those were the nights, truly.”

Jon snickered and Martin felt his voice rise uncomfortably high when he said “hey that’s not fair, you used the voice on that one too!”

“What are you talking about?” Jon giggled, (it was an honest to God giggle and the cutest thing Martin had ever heard, and it was so hard to get his brain to keep moving past oh my God Jon).  
“I…didn’t you just use the same voice on- nevermind.” Martin was sure he was turning bright red.

“What?” Jon said, still smiling so it didn’t have nearly the same effect.

“Nothing, it’s just. It’s a long story. I should probably go.” He had to leave right the fuck now or he was going to embarrass himself, he was throwing Jon a line hoping to God he’d catch it and-

“Oh, right. Yes, well we should be getting back to work I suppose.” For a moment Martin wondered how Jon hadn’t been kidnapped before now, it was so easy to play him. But then he realized that was mean, and felt really shit about it.

“No no no Jon Simms you are going right to the cot, even if I have to march you there myself.” Martin said, getting up and pushing his chair in.

“What makes you think I’ll listen to you?” He shot back, looking up at Martin.

“Because I’ll get Daisy to stand guard outside your door, and she’ll tell me if you don’t sleep.”

Jon blanched. “Fine, but just a few hours.”

“Take it up with your warden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i deadass dk when the next chapter is gonna be because so much schooled work.... but this is a good incentive


	4. Season 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cottage time! Martin pines, the boys argue, and Jon becomes slightly suspicious. 
> 
> This is part 1/2 of Season 4's entry so it's mostly lead-up, I have it mostly done but I'm curious to see what everyone wants to see from it. Kissing? Not kissing? Something more? Lmk

It wasn’t that it was easy to love Jon. And yes it was love now, he’d stopped pretending it was anything but long before the Lonely. Jon was, at heart, an insufferable git because he did things with all the power in his tiny body. It was like he had never not jumped into something with both feet first, learning how to get along with cows was approached with the same intense focus as cooking bolognese. So when he decided something it wasn’t that he’d never change his mind it was just- he said it like he believed it. His eyes were steady and warm and his hands didn’t shake and Martin felt himself actually slip into believing along with him.

And he wasn’t stupid, he knew what Jon could do to people to get them to believe him. He’d been compelled before, seen it working on people (the way Peter’s body trembled and then, the delicate shard of bone that was lodged in the shell of Jon’s ear on that beach, like the parody of an earring). But this was just Jon, something that had been there all along, and he wasn’t sure if it made it better or worse that he still made Martin tremble. That Martin, if he asked, would still drop to his knees at any second.

“And for what” he thought, watching Jon absent-mindedly gnaw the eraser off a pencil. He’d managed to curl himself into a pretzel, one leg akimbo, thigh pressed against the desk with the other twisted underneath in a position that looked madly uncomfortable. He blew at his fringe absently and Martin could just hear Tim laughing at him.

“You’ve got it so bad haven’t you.” He said, to himself, imagining Tim snickering in the seat beside him.

“You said it, not me.”

Martin refused to dignify that with a response, and his imaginary Tim sighed dramatically.

“He’s been like that for thirty minutes, just staring at that paper.” Martin murmured when the silence started to hurt his ears. “What could he possibly be getting out of it.”

“Nothing much” Imaginary Tim said, “maybe losing circulation. That is, if he does still have a circulatory system.”

Martin frowned “That’s not very nice.”

“Don’t look at me, I don’t have a circulatory system at all.” Tim shrugged, and put a hand on his chin. He was in a button up, the way he always was, top button undone the way he did to piss Jon off, and Martin felt a pang of longing to have known him more. To know what he might have looked like in genuine repose.

“Hey, Blackwood.” Tim hissed and Martin shook back to reality to see Jon looking at him from over the rim of his glasses.

“Talking to yourself?” He asked, and Martin kicked himself.

“Erm, yeah, yeah. A bit.”

Jon smiled, a tiny private thing that always seemed to startle the both of them when it happened. And it had been happening quite a lot the past week. He’d earned a real gut laugh from a horrible anecdote from his last job, Jon’s nose crinkling in a way he didn’t realize he’d missed until he saw it again.

“Anything important I missed?” He asked, untangling himself from his chair with a grunt.

“Not particularly, just. Imagining stuff I guess.” He said, watching as Jon rose to put his mug in the sink. “What were you working on?”

Jon was too dark for him to really see when he was embarrassed most times, but luckily for him he had absolutely no poker face. “Erm, well you know Jeanina, from down the road?”

“Yeah,” Martin said slowly.

“She’s got this crossword book, and I’ve been copying it over onto-don’t laugh at me!” He looked affronted as Martin tried to stifle his giggles.

“Sorry, you’re just- this all-powerful all-seeing Eye and you’re using it to spy on little old ladies’ crosswords!” He said, pressing a hand over his mouth to cover his smile.

“Well she’s also got quite the collection of sexual aides if you’d like to hear about that-“ Jon said and Martin screwed up his face.

“Oh no, no no no no thank you actually? I am fine.”

“That’s what I thought.” Jon said, nudging his glasses further up his nose and grabbing the dish soap.

“It’s just really human, is all.” Martin said, and Jon tensed for a moment, pausing with the mug held upside down in the sink.

“Are you afraid of that? Me not being- normal.” Jon said.

“No! No absolutely- Jon I could care less.”

“No, you could” he said, putting the mug down, and Martin got up.

“Jon- I know you’re not fully human. But need I remind you that for the past six months prior to this I’ve been living with an inhuman patron that I managed to deal with pretty well? And even if you know I was somehow terrified of you then, I don’t think I would have managed to make it out the way I did without wanting to come with you.”

Jon frowned, grabbed the hand towel and patted at his hands aggressively which only served to make Martin more irrationally fond of him in the moment.

“That doesn’t solve the problem of now though, does it.” He said.

“I could just sink back into the Lonely if I wanted to.” He shrugged at Jon’s pursed lips. Both of them had awoken to the tendrils of fog wrapping in and around his body, making it flicker as Martin shook with dreams. Those nights were hard to wake up from.

“It’s like riding a bike. And better the devil you know, than the one that you–“ Martin cut himself off before he admitted something stupid.

“The one you what?” Jon said. He looked a little nervous, twisting the towel between his hands and Martin wanted to take it from him, kiss his fingers until Jon smiled again.

“The one that employs you.” He settled on, and Jon seemed unsatisfied, but let it stand.

“Point is, Jon, we’re both changed. I don’t know anyone who’s worked with the Lukases as long as I have that didn’t end up different in some horrible way. Even that one woman, the one who married what’s his name.” Martin flapped his hand, thinking.

“Eric?” Jon suggested and Martin pointed at him, “Yes, her! She was dating an ex-Lukas for how long and look where she got!”

“Better than you.” Jon intoned, and Martin huffed at him.

“Doubt it. She doesn’t have anyone now.” He left the and _I have you_ unsaid, hoping it would pass right by him but Jon got a look in his eye. Cocked his head slightly, and a pit of anxiety started bubbling in his stomach.

“Point is, whatever normal is now, this is it. And you’re going to have to take it on trust that I don’t mind it. Or you for that matter.” Martin said, letting his hands drop to his sides. Jon just kept staring at him.

“You’re fine with this?” He said eventually.

“Well, yeah.” Martin’s face was burning, and he knew he must be bright red by now. “I mean I can just leave. It’s a free country.” He smiled weakly.

“Do you want to?” Jon asked so gently Martin felt his heart flutter and he had to take a deep breath.

“No.” He said, a little breathy. His whole body felt like it was on fire from the way Jon was looking at him, he could feel the swish of his arms passing against his shirt, the crawl of hair up his stomach. He was stripped, and it was terrifying and wonderful and he wanted more. 

Jon hummed, and (finally) stopped staring at him like that. He put the towel back on the rack and walked out to the hall.

“I think I’m going to take a nap.”

“You do that.” Martin called after him weakly before slumping against the counter.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“So, he definitely knows.” Imaginary Tim said smugly from somewhere behind him and Martin very nearly threw the hand towel at him.


	5. Season 4 (pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever was lost /will be found/in the blink of an eye." - A*teens "In The Blink Of An Eye"

If Jon suspected anything then he wasn’t telling. Things went on as normal, they were still up in each other’s space far too much, Jon still ordered Martin around, used him as a human pillow when he would read on the couch; and Martin would put a hand on his lower back to signal that he was moving in the tiny kitchen when they cooked together (which they did now, like a married couple, and it drove Martin crazy).  
They still went to bed on opposite sides and woke up tangled in each other, Jon’s hair in his mouth, his hand curled tight in Martin’s shirt. Wednesday saw him as the big spoon and he panicked, thinking Jon might be able to feel a Certain Morning Problem but he just made the same sad little sound he always did when Martin pulled away in the morning, his hand reaching back, patting the empty mattress before rolling onto his side and stealing all the blankets. He had to take a long shower that morning.

But he wasn’t about to do anything to ruin this…whatever they had. It was simple, and good and Jon didn’t seem to have any problems with it, so why include his feelings into it. It was fine.

It was not fine. It was Friday and Jon was scream-singing along to the one (1) CD they had in the house. Which would have been fine if he didn’t try and grab Martin from where he was sitting on the couch and try and dance with him.

“You’re drunk.” He said and Jon just smiled wider and tried to spin him.

“Avatars can’t get drunk. And more to the point, I only had half a glass of wine.”

“Yeah, and you’re what, seven stone?”

Jon poked him in the ribs and he yelped in surprise. 

“That’s for being rude while I’m trying to dance.” He said. Martin wasn’t sure what kind of a step he was trying for but it was not working. Didn't mean he stopped watching though.

“Jon, you can’t slow dance to A*teens.” He sighed, and Jon just scoffed. 

“Actually I wasn’t trying to do that but now that you mention it-“ He let go of Martin’s arms to walk over to the CD player.

“Oh God,” Martin said, unable to stop himself from smiling as Jon waved a hand at him, bending down and thumping the machine, which had started skipping.

“What are you doing over there?” Martin said, taking another quick sip of wine for fortification as Jon mashed the buttons. That wasn’t so much a drunk thing as it was a necessity, the CD player looked about thirty years old and probably was more mouse droppings than actual circuitry but it seemed to work, as Jon stood up triumphantly, a [slow tinny pop song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i5LoWtr9QeU&list=PL2eBh4WlpATW0e1aBJJ7aeKOQMSKsWB-4&index=11) pouring out of the speakers.

“Right now, I am preparing to teach you how to waltz.” Jon said, and Martin gave him a very tired look.

“Come on.” Jon said, cheeks flushed with alcohol and exertion and Martin was a weak man. He sighed and put his wine glass down, much to Jon’s delight.  
“Come here.” He ordered, beckoning and Martin felt the same old shiver echo down his spine.  
“Yes sir.” He said, and Jon snorted.

“God, haven’t heard that in a minute.” Jon muttered, taking Martin’s hand and settling it on his shoulder. 

“Oh?” Martin says, his mouth suddenly very dry.

“Mmm” Jon says, lacing their other hands together. “Alright so I go back first- and then to the side and then back again.”

“Um.” Martin said and then Jon started to move, and for a moment Martin had it but went left as Jon went right.

“No, This way.” Jon said, pushing at his side with his free hand.

“Oh,” Martin said, feeling his face get hot.

“ ’salright, I’m the lead, it’s my job.” Jon said, absently and Martin’s stomach flipped.

“Now back again, lovely.” Jon said. “You’re doing wonderful Martin.”

“Oh.” He said again, a little lightheaded with the praise. Jon looked up at him and he smiled quickly. Jon was really lovely like this, so close to him he could see the way he chewed at his cheek when he focused.

“You look like you’ve gone all fuzzy.” Jon said, and Martin felt a spike of panic in his stomach.

“What? No, no I’m fine.” He squeaked, and Jon shushed him, patting his back.

“It’s fine Martin, I’m leading. Just relax.” Jon said, and Martin pursed his lips, but let Jon pull him in closer, just rocking against each other. The CD had ended, and the machine made an empty wheezing noise, spinning the disk uselessly.

“Jon?” 

“Mmm.” He hummed against Martin’s chest, his hands now risen to cradle his middle back. 

“Are you- is this on purpose? Because I can’t if this is just all an accident. I can’t keep doing this. Letting you just- do this.” His voice broke a little and Jon’s hand on his lower back tightened, keeping him upright, their bodies pressing together.

“I think it is?” Jon said, a little confused and Martin wanted to scream. 

“You’ve just got this thing you do. Your voice-and it’s not the compulsion, I promise. I know what that feels like and it isn’t this. You just sometimes ask me for something and I just do it. It’s like I just go a bit loopy for a second and I don’t quite know if you’re, ah, intending it but it’s a bit close to, erm.” He stopped himself, cheeks flaming, looking off into the distance so he didn’t have to see Jon’s face. 

“Go on.” Jon said, his voice low, and Martin bit his lip. 

“It’s a bit weird.” He said, shifting from his right foot to his left. 

“Martin, look at me.” He risked a glance down to where Jon was looking up at him, serious as anything. “You can say it. I know you can.” 

It felt simultaneously like Jon was turning his brain off, while his body had decided to set itself ablaze. So, deeply confusing and a little arousing. His face pinched as he tried to work up the nerve.

“You’re drunk.” He said. 

“I’m an avatar, Martin. I can get sober when I like.” 

“Well are you?” He said, and Jon looked at him flatly until he dropped it. 

“You can just read my mind can’t you?” Martin whined. “You can just take a peek, peer in there. See exactly what I want to ask you.” 

“I suppose.” Jon shrugged. “I might see more than you really want though. And I’d very much appreciate it if you’d tell me yourself. You’ve already done so good tonight.” 

“You’re doing it on purpose aren’t you.” Martin said, as crossly as he could manage while his head still spun with praise. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” He said airily, definitely trying to hold back a smile and Martin wanted to just take him by the shoulders and give him a good shake. 

“Stop using your...stupid sexy voice on me!” He finally exclaimed and Jon threw his arms up a bit and gave a cheer. 

“You used your words!” Jon smiled without restraint, all gums and crooked teeth and he was the most beautiful thing Martin had ever seen.

“You are actually the worst.” He managed to grumble, as Jon gathered him back up in his arms, tucking his head to Martin’s chest and swaying slightly, trying to pull him along like nothing had happened at all. Martin was not having it. 

“But seriously,” he said, looking down at Jon “Are you doing like a voice on me or is that just- like am I going mad.” 

Jon seemed intent on staying where he was, face planted firmly in Martin’s ratty t-shirt. “Aw, now who’s shy.” 

“Fuck off.” He said, muffled through the fabric and Martin laughed. 

“You are truly a ridiculous little man, you know that.” 

“As are you. Minus the uh- little part.” Jon’s face colored again, the flush of alcohol having faded from his cheeks minutes ago. 

“I could say something about a double entendre here, but I don’t think I will.” Martin said, pressing lightly where his hands rested on Jon’s lower back, making him jump. 

“Before I say anything else I should probably tell you I don’t really go for sex.” Jon said. 

“Oh.” Martin readjusted some things in his mind “Alright then.”

“With anybody, it’s not just a you thing.” Jon said, a tiny line appearing between his eyebrows. 

“I’m not offended, Jon. It’s fine. I’m already so far gone on you that you could be into anything and I’d be fine.” Jon gaped at him and he was confused for a moment before, oh. He’d just confessed to loving Jon. Hm, not ideal. 

“You-” Jon put a hand on his forehead. “Hold on a second. Alright. Too many confessions at once we need to sit down.” 

“Good plan. Good. Yeah.” Martin said, pulling his hands away and watching as Jon curled up on the arm of the half- broken floral couch. He sat carefully on the opposite end, trying to make him a little less nervous. 

“So.” Jon pointed at himself “asexual.” 

Martin nodded. 

“It’s not a shame thing, or anything.” Jon said, wrinkling his nose and Martin felt a sharp pang of regret. 

“No I-I know.” He said. “I um, that was not perhaps the best thing to have said. Sorry.” 

Jon was entirely unreadable, which only served to make Martin more nervous, and did not seem intent on saying anything until he had sufficiently explained himself.

“I uh, did some GSA stuff at school, which isn’t perfect but I’ve got the general concept of it. Sorry, again I- that was kind of shit to say when someone’s coming out to you.” His palms were sweating and the rasp of the couch’s impossibly dry cotton cushions almost hurt where he wiped them.

“It’s fine, Martin.” Jon said. He seemed to relax a little, sinking into the corner of the couch where he was perched. “Honestly I’m not that worried, I just wanted to say it before we discuss anything else.” 

“Oh?” 

“The um. Voice thing you mentioned, I think I might have an explanation there. My ex came around the archives a while back-”

“Oh yeah Georgie. She’s lovely.” 

“You met her?” Jon’s eyebrows flew up. 

“Yeah! We talked about-” Martin stopped himself, thinking back. “It doesn’t matter, actually. Sorry for interrupting.”

“You’re fine, don’t apologise for everything.” Jon said and Martin had to bite his tongue to keep from saying it again.

“She um, noted that I was using,” he shifted in his seat “A rather domineering tone that she, er, recognized. Entirely by accident I might add but um. It wasn’t something I had intended.” 

“Jon” Martin said, dripping with feigned shock as the smaller man bristled. 

“I just wanted people to take me seriously.” He snapped.

Fuck. Martin scrambled to correct himself “No no no no you don’t have to explain yourself for anything, honestly it’s a perfectly normal voice I’m just odd like that. I just-” He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts into a cogent stream, but it was hard with _Jon??? Dom??? Maybe???_ flying around his head at top speed. 

“Tim and I had this conversation ages ago where he insisted that you had to be doing a Voice on purpose you know. It was too sexy to not be like a deliberate thing, and I said ‘no, not our Jon he wouldn’t do that’ because you just- are you.” he said. “Also because I kept getting distracted by it because you really do have a nice voice. Not in a sexual way just, relaxing. I’m fucking this all up aren’t I.” 

“Not really.” Jon said, and just stared at him in silence, as if sizing him up. Martin let himself be observed, watching back as he gathered little sweaty pleats in the hem of his shirt.  
He looked a little bemused, his hair tangled around his ears, chin resting on his hand, but less tired and harried than Martin had seen him in ages. And he was smiling. Not frenetic and wild like before, but just pleased, his eyes glazed over a little like he was thinking about something.

Eventually he lifted his head from his hand, adjusted his glasses. “Hm.” 

“Have I passed muster?” Martin said, trying for levity. The corner of Jon’s mouth twitched.

“I don’t know quite yet. Come over here.” Jon patted the seat right next to him and Martin scooted awkwardly over to his side.

“I’m dead serious about the sex thing you know, voices aside.” He said and Martin nodded. 

“I know. And I wouldn’t ever want to ask for anything if it would make you uncomfortable.” 

“Good.” Jon said, and then “You’re sure about this?” 

“What?” 

“Being- with me.” Jon said, looking askance and Martin’s heart skipped about four beats. 

“Oh?” He breathed. 

“Oh?” Jon said. 

“In a relationship? Sense?”

Jon’s hands fluttered nervously in his lap, “I just thought- since you said you were interested in me that. Maybe I misinterpreted.” Jon said, moving to rise and Martin caught his arm. 

“No- no please. You didn’t, I just was surprised. Didn’t think i’d ever hear that to be honest.” 

“Really?” Jon cocked his head. 

“Well I usually do end up liking emotionally unavailable men, it’s probably some sort of personality defect, whatever I’m not a therapist. But more than that you’re just so-” he gestured broadly at Jon.

“Priggish?” He suggested.

“Attractive!” Martin said. “Unattainable perhaps but- who?” He squeezed his eyes shut, “-alright fine I’m instituting a rule right now, no more insulting yourself. Not a word.” 

“It wasn’t an insult.” Jon sniffed. 

“Oh come off it.” Martin said, weaving his fingers between Jon’s, who gave a little squeeze in response. 

“But really, what do you want?” 

Jon was shaking slightly, his body small and breakable where it was pressed up against Martin’s side; he took a long minute to think of how to put it in words. “I want to wake up next to you. And figure out how to make you laugh more. I want to try beating you at scrabble, because even without fancy eye powers I don’t think I could really do it. And yes, I’ve thought about sex because it would be nice, but mostly in the sense that it would make you happy.” He paused, nudged Jon’s thigh with their clasped hands. “If you haven’t noticed I really really like seeing you happy.”

“That’s-” Jon’s lip was trembling dangerously. “I can do that.” 

“Yeah?” Martin asked. 

He brought a hand up to wipe at his eyes, “Yes you absolute idiot. That was the sweetest thing I think anyone’s ever said to me, of course I’m going to be seduced.”

“If that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s said to you then I’ve got a lot of work to do, I suppose.” Martin said, sighing exaggeratedly, laying an arm around Jon’s shoulders.

Jon chuckled wetly, rubbing at his face, “You made me cry you arsehole.” 

“What can I say, I’m a menace.” Martin said fondly, and got a wiggly smile from behind Jon’s hands. “Can I hug you?” 

“Absolutely.” Jon crawled into his lap, wiping his face on Martin’s shirt which was objectively a bit gross, but altogether sweet. 

“God. If I could do nothing else ever again I’d be happy.”

“You are such a sap, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this.” Jon’s voice rumbled into Martin’s skin, filling him with that same sweet feeling made all the better when he knew Jon was doing it on purpose. 

“Mmm, but you like it.” Martin said, pressing a kiss into Jon’s hair. 

“I do.” Jon admitted, and Martin could feel the smile pressed against his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink and asexuality are not mutually exclusive! I did try and make them kiss, but they're slippery little bastards and I couldn't quite figure it out. Also the moment I remembered that A*teens existed I knew i had to inflict it on this show, just as it was inflicted on me as a teenager. Finding this specific thematically relevant song that probably could be waltzed to was just the cherry on top of the ridiculous cake.
> 
> If you're at all curious, PLEASE look up the lyrics to the linked song (In The Blink Of An Eye) and imagine Elias singing it alone to himself because that's what I imagine and it cracks me up like NOTHING else. 
> 
> Finally: I want to thank my drunken dance partner @bisexualtelepath. If u think you're getting out of waltzing to this the moment I get back to you you're a fool (luv u)

**Author's Note:**

> me tapping away at my computer like i'm hackign the mainframe: how ht eFUCK u make multichaptered fic on here.


End file.
